The sun is sunk, the day is done, E'en stars are setting, one by one; Nor torch nor taper longer may Eke out the pleasures of the day; And, since, in social glee's despite, It needs must be, Good-night, good-night! The bride into her bower is sent, The ribald rhyme and jesting spent; The lover's whispered words, and few, Have bid the bashful maid adieu; The dancing floor is silent quite, No foot bounds there, Good-night, good-night! The lady in her curtain'd bed, The herdsman in his wattled shed, The clansmen in the heather'd hall, Sweet sleep be with you, one and all! We part in hope of days as bright As this now gone, Good-night, good-night! Sweet sleep be with us, one and all; And if upon its stillness fall The visions of a busy brain, We'll have our pleasures o'er again, To warm the heart, and charm the sight; Gay dreams to all! Good-night, good-night!
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